Equals
by halcyon-longing
Summary: "They've reached a wordless understanding of each other, holding secrets that will go to the grave without any discussion. Though no one but them will know, right now, they are equals." Nora and Danse confess their feelings for each other and someone is watching from the shadows.


The holotags are still warm when Danse slips them over Nora's head and they come to rest just a little below where her own had once been.

"Take these to Elder Maxson. It should be all the proof he needs that you were successful," he says quietly as he pulls Nora's blonde curls free of the holotag's cord. His gloved fingers linger in her hair, she notices, and he looks as if he's holding back words he desperately wants to speak.

"Danse…" she begins, lifting her hand to meet his. Their remaining time together is ticking away so quickly, speeding up as they near the end. It feels like an eternity ago that Maxson ordered Danse's execution, when in reality, it had only been that morning. It was nearly sunset when Nora descended in the elevator, and she's sure that as soon as the daylight is gone, Danse will disappear into the night for good.

He doesn't speak but their silence conveys more than words could. He's taking all of her in, studying her features, just as Nora does the same to him.

She already pictures his face in lifelike detail when she closes her eyes at night. There's no feature she hasn't studied before, but she isn't going to pass up what could be her last chance to look at the face of the man she's fallen in love with.

She memorizes the curve of the scar that cuts through his heavy brow and realizes she's never asked how he got it. Nora makes a mental note to bring it up when they get back to the Prydwen, then remembers with the taste of bile in her throat that they won't be going back together.

His dark eyes still haven't met hers. She realizes he's fixated on her mouth, tracing the curve of her lips with his gaze. The fingers still tangled in her hair twitch ever so slightly.

Nora's hypnotized under the intensity of his stare, feeling rooted to the spot. For a single hopeful moment, she wonders if Danse is going to kiss her. But before she can start to lean in, Danse's hand is out of her curls and scooping up his bag from the dusty ground.

"Let's get out of here. Don't want to keep Elder Maxson waiting."

He walks to the elevator without another word, avoiding her eyes, as if looking at her any longer will crumble his resolve. Nora gives him a couple seconds head-start before she follows.

They wait for the doors to open in silence. They enter the elevator the same way. Danse presses the button and the doors close. The elevator begins to move.

"Please don't leave."

The words escape Nora's mouth before she can stop herself. Her voice is pitiful in her own ears and she can't imagine how pathetic she sounds to Danse. He's been by her side through so much shit, always ready to head out on their next expedition with unwavering faith in his protégé. They were about to infiltrate the Institute itself, the boogeyman of the Commonwealth, for christ's sake. And here she was, practically crying.

Danse finally looks down at her with a sad smile.

"Nora, you've learned all I can teach you about the Brotherhood and you've proved yourself to be an extraordinary soldier. You're going to do amazing things and you don't need a synthetic monster like me bringing you down."

"Don't you dare say that about yourself," Nora says sharply, forgetting entirely about the tears that had been welling up in her eyes.

He winces at the sudden harshness in her voice. She rarely snapped back at him and it always caught him off-guard when she did. Nora takes a deep breath and continues.

"Being a synth doesn't change who you are as a person, and it sure as hell doesn't change how I feel about you," she says, casting her eyes down and nervously drumming her fingers against her thigh. "After Nate, I didn't think I'd be able to care that much for someone ever again. Then you came along," she added with a weary laugh.

Danse's face remains serious, but something changes behind his deep brown eyes.

"Are you saying you're… in love with me?"

The question hangs in the air between them, suspended like a bomb ready to drop.

"Yeah, I guess I am," Nora says sheepishly. Now that she hears it out loud, it sounds stupidly cliché. Falling in love with the soldier she'd stumbled across during a fire fight, her mentor, her closest friend; it's laughably comparable to the plot of those bad romance novels that pre-war women had been so fond of.

She barely has time to linger in her embarrassment before Danse's hand is at her waist, pulling her against him and the other is tilting her chin up to meet him in a kiss.

The kiss is urgent, but chaste. Very Danse-like, she notes once her initial shock fades. She relaxes into his embrace and wraps her arms around his neck. Before she can begin to register the new sensations of his carefully trimmed beard scratching lightly at her skin and the firm grip of his hand around her hip, Danse pulls back. Nora is about to protest until she sees the hunger in his eyes, not so different from the expression he gets during combat.

"You don't know how long I've been waiting to do that," he murmurs, and his voice is husky with need. "I didn't think I'd get the chance."

Any second now the elevator doors would open and their time would be up. From the way Danse is looking at her, Nora knows that he is just as aware of the ticking clock.

"I'm glad you took it."

This time, Nora is the one who initiates the kiss. She rises onto her toes and pulls him back towards her, crashing their lips together with more intensity than before. He moans low in his throat when her tongue darts out to swipe along his lower lip. Danse's hands are all over her, moving up and down her back, following the shape of her waist and hips. Nora curls her fingers into his dark hair and tugs gently. She's wanted to run her hands through his hair since the first time she saw him remove that ridiculous-looking hood and she can't help but stare whenever he isn't wearing it.

Danse lowers his hands to the swell of Nora's ass and pulls her hips to his. She whimpers in spite of herself when he grinds into her and she can feel his rapidly hardening cock pressing against her belly.

"God, Danse, I need you," she gasps out as he turns his attention to her neck, attacking the delicate skin with onslaught of quick nips and sloppy kisses.

Sucking a hickey into the skin above her collarbone, Danse fumbles with the zippered front of Nora's Brotherhood uniform before finally managing to tug it down. It took Nora weeks to master the art of taking off her own overly complicated jumpsuit, and she can't imagine Danse has had much practice removing it from another person's body, so she can't fault him. As he pushes the fabric aside, Nora works at Danse's own uniform until the horrible orange material is hanging from his waist.

Nora backs up until she hits the wall of the elevator and he follows her without breaking away from the onslaught on her neck. Her hands roam Danse's bare chest, sliding over the toned muscles and thatch of dark hair across his pecs. God, he's just so _massive_ , she thinks, attempting to map every inch of his exposed skin with her fingertips. Part of her wishes that radiation exposure had given her a third arm so she could reach between her legs and touch herself as she continues to explore Danse's body.

The elevator doors finally ding open and the only observation she makes is that they suddenly have more room to navigate. Danse scoops her up by the thighs, and she wraps her legs around his waist. Nora's eyes are closed as she kisses him fiercely, but she knows he's taking them to that rusted old desk she passed on her way into the bunker.

Sure enough, he sets her down on the cold metal and gets to work removing the rest of her jumpsuit. Nora lets him pull her arms free of the sleeves before she lips her hand between their bodies and begins to make his job difficult.

Danse groans as she palms his cock through the thin fabric and thrusts up into her hand. He only falters in his task of undressing her for a brief moment before he unhooks Nora's bra and takes her nipple into his hot mouth.

Nora cries out at the sensation as he sucks gently at her breast, laving his tongue over the sensitive tip. After what feels like far too short a time, Danse pulls off her breast with a _pop_ and Nora whimpers in disappointment. Her whine is cut short, however, when Danse lifts her from the desk quickly, sliding her jumpsuit down to her knees before setting her back down, this time facing the wall. He kneels between her legs and damn, if that's not the hottest thing Nora's ever seen. She immediately forgives him neglecting to give her breasts further attention.

The frantic pace has slowed; Danse strokes the newly exposed skin and presses gentle kisses down her thighs that make Nora shiver. He tugs her shoes off and tosses them aside before he finally finishes undressing her, pulling the legs of the suit away at an agonizingly slow pace. Nora is writhing on the desk, desperate for him to do something about the aching between her legs.

"Please," she breathes.

Danse gives her a lopsided smirk before he runs his hands back up her legs and yanks down her panties. For a moment, all he does is stare at her dripping sex and the seeds of self-consciousness begin to creep into Nora's mind. Then, she remembers who it is on the floor in front of her and that she loves and trusts him more than she thought was possible.

"You are so beautiful, Nora," he says quietly, as if he can't believe what he is seeing. "You're so wet and I haven't even done anything yet."

Nora feels her face flushing, but then he swipes a finger between her folds and she has to bite her lip to hold back a whimper. Danse is watching her face intently now, testing her reactions as he touches her, teases her entrance before pushing inside.

Nora can't stop herself from crying out this time. It seems like an eternity since she's been touched this way, and well, two centuries on ice are about as close to an eternity as anyone can get. She's content enough with his finger thrusting slowly inside of her, but then he leans forward and his tongue is on her clit and Nora throws her head back because it just feels so damn good.

Danse alternates between sucking gently and tracing circles around the sensitive bud, the entire time continuing to stroke her inner walls. Nora fights the urge to close her eyes in ecstasy because she wants to watch him worshipping her with his mouth. She laces her fingers into his hair and directs his efforts ever-so-slightly, needing more pressure from his tongue as she feels the beginning prickle of a climax rising. Nora can faintly make out what sounds like the whir of a distant vertibird and she briefly wonders if they maybe should have closed the bunker door to stop any wasteland critters from wandering inside and interrupting them. She can't bring herself to give it any more thought, especially when Danse slides a second finger inside her and she cries out at the new feeling. Her climax is coming faster than she's ever been able to achieve on her own, even with the helpful little gadgets she owned before the war.

She's breathing quickly in shallow pants and her toes curl in anticipation when Danse does the unthinkable: he stops and gives her a mischievous smile, his mouth glistening from her arousal.

"Lie back."

Nora hesitates but gives in when she realizes he won't continue until she complies, and right now, her clit is throbbing and aches to be touched. Danse's expression is victorious as she lies back on the desk, and he throws her legs over his broad shoulders. Nora doesn't have time to complain about the frigid metal on the bare skin of her back because Danse dives back in with double the enthusiasm. His stubble scratches at the soft skin of her inner thighs, and the tickling sensation only adds to the climax that's building at an impossibly fast pace.

Nora closes her eyes as she grips Danse's hair and grinds against his mouth, desperately seeking the extra pressure on her clit that will send her over the edge. One of his hands is still between her legs, stroking the spot inside her that's making her sees stars, and the other roams over the planes of her body with such affection that she'd be crying if she wasn't about to come undone. She writhes and squirms, so close to release that all she can think about is keeping Danse right where he is and, _oh yes don't stop-_

Nora turns her head to the side and presses her cheek to the cold metal to steady herself before she tumbles headfirst off that cliff. She wants Danse to be looking into her eyes when she comes, but when she forces herself to open them, the gaze she meets isn't the one she was expecting. Rather the dark brown she fell in love with, the eyes that make her feel at home, she meets the cold, icy blue stare of Arthur Maxson.

He's standing in the doorway, wearing a look of simultaneous surprise and disgust at the scene he's stumbled into. Yet he says nothing, doesn't move, and if Nora isn't mistaken, there's a red flush creeping up his cheeks and his hand is resting on the not-so-subtle bulge in his flight suit.

Nora's brain screams at her to do something but Danse isn't stopping and she's helpless as his tongue flicks over her clit one more time. Her back arches and Nora clutches at his hair like he's the last real thing in the world as the wave crests and she comes harder than she ever has before. She's crying out uncontrollably, loose approximations of Danse's name rolling off her tongue. They've been discovered and there will be a bullet in their heads any moment now, she has to get him to understand how much she loves him… _wait, who needs to understand, Arthur or Danse_ …?

Nora's panting and her hands are trembling when the pleasure fades away. The gunshot she's waiting to hear doesn't come. Danse, she realizes, doesn't know about their visitor. The metal door is open at an angle that hides Arthur from his view but not Nora's. In fact, she can't tear her eyes away from the Elder's hungry expression and the straining erection under his hand.

All Nora can hear is her heartbeat in her ears and until Danse says her name, she doesn't remember that she's naked and was about to have mind-blowing sex with the man she loves, who is now wiping her wetness from his face and smiling up at her with those puppy-dog eyes.

They're locked in a stalemate. Arthur is an exceptional tactician but she doubts he's ever encountered a situation like this on the battlefield. Rising through the Brotherhood's ranks, Nora always had respect for the young Elder, despite his callous ideals and unwavering loyalty to the Brotherhood's flawed mission. The execution order lost him that respect, and much more.

Right now, however, Nora and Arthur are equals. The Elder and the soldier, engaged in a silent battle of the wills, waiting for the other to make a move. Nora doesn't know why he hasn't shot her already. Alive, she could take him down and destroy the Maxson legacy. Gossip about the Elder jerking it to the sight of a synth fucking one of his top soldiers wouldn't be too good for Arthur's image. But at the same time, something is stopping him from pulling the trigger.

"Nora?"

Danse repeats her name and she finally turns back to him, mustering up what little acting ability she has and pretending that she's still coming down from her orgasm.

If Arthur isn't going to act, then she's going to give him something else to look at.

Nora sits up and grabs Danse, pressing her mouth to his and tasting herself. He stands and pulls her against him as they continue to kiss. He's still impossibly hard, and he groans as she palms him through the jumpsuit that's still hanging at his waist. She gives a hint of a tug to the fabric and Danse kicks off his boots, followed by the jumpsuit and his boxers.

His cock is as big and thick as the rest of him, and Nora involuntarily whimpers when she thinks about it inside of her. An experimental stroke and he bucks up into her hand. Precome is leaking steadily from the tip; Nora has to fight the urge to lick it away. No, she needs to get fucked too badly right now.

"Come with me," she murmurs, taking Danse by the hand.

She leads him to the office chair that got knocked aside in their earlier throes of passion, and she hopes Arthur had enough sense to step out of sight. Danse stays blissfully oblivious and watches Nora as she positions the chair so that it's facing the elevator and within arm's reach of the desk. Nora gives him a mischievous smirk, partially intended for Arthur as well, as she pushes on his chest gently to get him to sit.

Danse's eyes are wide as Nora straddles him and lets his cock slide between her wet folds. When she moans, it isn't acting for Arthur. He's reappeared in the doorway, lurking in the shadows and watching her intently. Now, however, his black uniform is unzipped to his waist and she can see his hand moving slowly beneath the fabric.

 _Arthur Maxson, you dirty, kinky, man_.

Danse's hands are back on her, roaming up her back. Nora's trying not to focus on Arthur standing in the background but it's so hard when she can feel his unwavering stare. She turns her attention to what she can feel, rather than what she sees.

His hands are warm and strong as they trace the curve of her spine. She peppers his neck and collarbones with kisses, feeling the pulse just beneath his skin. Danse moves his hips and it's almost too much when his cock slides over her still-sensitive clit.

After a lingering kiss to his jaw, Nora whispers into Danse's ear.

"I want you inside me so badly."

His groan at her words is all the response she needs. With a steadying hand on Danse's shoulder, Nora guides his cock to her entrance and sinks down. She can't help but cry out when he's fully inside her. It's been so long since she's felt this delicious stretch, and Danse's fingers were only a hint at how good he would feel. Danse closes his eyes to steady himself, hips stilling. She doesn't know how long it's been for him, though she guesses it's nowhere close to two centuries. Now that she thinks about it, Nora doesn't know if he's ever been with a woman before. She loves him with all of her heart, but god, there's still so much of him that's a mystery and she silently prays that they'll have more time together because she wants to know everything there is to know.

When Danse meets her eyes again, Nora takes it as a sign to continue. Using his shoulders for leverage, she rises slowly until he's just barely inside of her before she sinks back down. His hips twitch, and she knows it's taking all of his self-control to not thrust hard and fast into her tight heat. Instead, his fingers curl around her hips and he begins guiding her as she raises up once more.

Danse is watching the point where their bodies connect, so Nora glances quickly into the darkened corner of the room. Arthur is still there, stroking himself faster now. She wonders if he's imagining himself in Danse's place or her own. Either way, something about being watched by their superior is turning Nora on more than she cares to admit. It's so _wrong_ , she thinks, and yet she can already start to feel the stirrings of a second orgasm. The fact that Arthur can't help himself, that seeing them together was too much for him to ignore, does something to Nora that she doesn't quite understand and she whimpers as Danse hits that spot inside of her once more.

Arthur tugs the jumpsuit away from his cock so he can pump it more vigorously. Even from across the room, Nora can see the sheen of sweat on his forehead and she knows he must be getting close. Danse suddenly thrusts up to meet her as she's sinking down and she cries out at the change in sensation. He's controlling their movements now, so Nora is able to lift a hand from his shoulder and slid it between their bodies to touch herself, chasing the orgasm that's steadily building.

"Nora… so beautiful…" Danse murmurs, kissing whatever skin he can manage as he bounces her on his cock. "Nora, I love you so much… god, I love you."

His pace is erratic now, his breath ragged. She feels the muscles in his legs grow tense and his fingers around her hip tighten. The heat between her own legs is rising, throbbing, and every time she catches a glimpse of Arthur, it sends a jolt of hot pleasure straight to her core.

"Yes… yes, Danse, please…" she whimpers, though she's not quite sure what she's pleading for.

"I'm so close, Nora, so close," he gasps, and Nora wraps her arms around his shoulders and whispers in his ear to come. He does with a shuddering groan and at the same time, Nora sees Arthur's mouth fall open in a silent gasp as he comes in pearly spurts that splatter onto the concrete, though he's trying to contain it in his gloved hand.

She meets Arthur's eyes and his expression, combined with the hot pulsing of Danse's cock, is enough to tip Nora over the edge, and then she's crying out as she comes for the second time that night.

When she stills, Nora is shaking and breathing hard. She's still wrapped around him, resting her chin on his sweat-slick shoulder, when she speaks.

"I love you, Danse."

She's already said it, but this time she's saying it so that Arthur knows. He's zipping his jumpsuit back up when he hears her, and his face is stony, unreadable. Nora doesn't break eye contact. It's his move.

"I can't leave you, Nora," Danse says, and he sounds truly exhausted, both physically and emotionally. "I don't know what I can do, but I can't leave you."

Nora doesn't believe it at first, but after the words have hung in the silence for a few moments, Arthur gives her the faintest nod, barely perceptible in the dark of the falling night.

He'll allow it, his expression tells her, but no one can know. Not about Danse, not about any of this.

Nora barely nods in reply, but he's satisfied. Arthur's eyes trail over Danse's back and she wonders what silent goodbye he's saying to his Paladin. His friend. Nora doesn't know how close the two are, but she can see Arthur's grief in his eyes, normally so piercing but now softened by regret and pain.

Then he's gone, disappearing into the cover of night.

"Come back to the boathouse with me," Nora says, undraping herself from Danse's shoulders and leaning back so she can see his face. "We'll figure it out one day at a time."

Danse hesitates before he nods.

"I don't want to leave your side ever again. If I lost you, I honestly don't know what I'd do."

Nora kisses him gently and rests her forehead against his.

"I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

As they dress and scrape together any junk lying around the post that can be taken with them, Nora can just barely hear the whirring of a vertibird taking off in the distance and she thinks about what's going to happen when she boards the Prydwen. She has to go back, she can only delay it for a few days. The Brotherhood still needs her, especially now that they've lost a Paladin, and she can't put off meeting with Arthur forever.

At the door, Danse looks back and gives the room a lingering look. She knows he's thinking about what would have happened if she hadn't shown up to stop him. She takes his hand in hers and gives it a gentle squeeze, a silent signal that it's time to go. Danse turns and gives her a sad smile. Then, he kisses the top of her head, as if thanking her, and he leads her into the night.

Nora isn't worried about Arthur. They've reached a wordless understanding of each other, holding secrets that will go to the grave without any discussion. Though no one but them will know, right now, they are equals.

 **(A/N)**

Prompt: "During Blind Betrayal when the sole survivor goes to confront Danse he confesses to him and things get heated. Cut to Maxson showing up and finding Danse and the sole survivor in a compromising position.

In my head I have this vision of Danse sitting in a chair with his back to the door whilst the sole survivor rides him. The sole survivor notices Maxson after awhile and looks him in the eye and continues on demonstrating exactly how he feels about his ridiculous orders."

I've had this bookmarked for a while, and for some reason, in the middle of this awful writer's block for Heavy In Your Arms, this struck me as something I could write. Don't worry, I promise there will be more to come with Elle and Charon, I'm just having a tough time right now. I started full time at work, on top of my second seasonal job, and in the last month I've thrown up twice from stress, which is a terrifying new symptom of my anxiety disorder. So I've gone back to part time (which is still 30 hours a week!) but I'll be able to get back to recovering, and hopefully writing more.

The last 2000 words were written in a pizza-fueled sprint in order to meet my self-imposed deadline of Christmas so it could be total crap, who knows. It was important for me to have something published, since I feel bad about not updating in so long. Anyways, as always I hope you enjoy reading and I truly appreciate every person who clicks onto this fic. Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy New Year, and a wonderful every other holiday and festivity!


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